


Love at First Glance

by LadyMyfanwy



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14313309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMyfanwy/pseuds/LadyMyfanwy
Summary: Shared glances across a crowded train, a lost mobile phone, an intrepid adventurer, a determined journalist, and a search that brings them both together -- what more could you ask for?!  This is based on the Hallmark Channel original film of the same name. I have added a few of my own scenes, events and dialogue, and I’ve omitted a few scenes that weren’t really necessary to tell the story. Please enjoy!





	1. Chapter One

Ianto and Daffyd were seated at their usual table in the main dining room of one of their favourite restaurants. While Daffyd was studying the menu carefully, Ianto was merely fiddling with his. “Don’t need to look at this, I already know what we’re having. Guess you could call us boring, set in our ways, right, Daffyd?” He smiled fondly at his boyfriend and even though there was no response, he continued, “We’re like an old married couple, comfortable, ya know?”

After a few minutes the waiter came up to the table and pulled his PDA from his apron pocket. “What may we prepare for you gentlemen tonight?”

Ianto announced that they’d have what they always have, “the butternut ravioli for two, please.”

Daffyd didn’t look up from the menu he’d been reading as though he’d never seen it before. “Actually, I’ll have the mushroom and chicken risotto, please.” He closed the menu and handed it to the young man with a brief nod.

The waiter motioned for the busboy to attend their table as he left to take an order from a large party of eight.

Ianto leaned backward so the busboy could fill their wine glasses with the house red – a delicious discovery they’d made on their first visit – and drop off a basket of crusty, warm artisanal breads and butter, some of them flavoured, and when it was just the two of them again, Ianto leaned forward and asked, “what’s going on? We always share the ravioli, ever since the first time we came here. Remember that night?”

***** 

Daffyd lifted the cloth from the bread basket and offered it to Ianto, who chose a small roll of dark brown molasses bread, and then he plucked a piece of warm baguette from the basket for himself. He picked up his knife but in the middle of taking a butter pat, he caught sight of Ianto buttering his role and Daffyd found he couldn’t look away. Ianto’s fingers were long and slender, ‘an artist’s fingers,’ Daffyd thought, ‘so elegant… and so very erotic.’ 

Daffyd Collins had first noticed Ianto getting into the lift as he was getting off, but other tenants got in his way before he could get into the car; the doors closed and the handsomest young man Daffyd had ever seen vanished.

A few days later Daffyd got his first chance to speak to Ianto; in perfect rom-com fashion, they collided in front of the mailboxes. Ianto was sifting through his mail while Daffyd was concentrating on texting his brother. In the process of collecting themselves and their things, they bent over at the same time and knocked their heads rather sharply, which led to rueful laughter, “are you all right?” spoken at almost the same second, then introductions and handshakes. 

It was actually Ianto who took the first step the following week; he and Daffyd were in the lift together and Ianto asked him out for coffee. “If you’re not doing anything Sunday afternoon? Say two o’clock?”

Struck dumb by the invitation, especially since he’d actually just had the exact same dream the night before, all Daffyd could do was nod his head like one of those annoying bobble-head dogs on a taxi’s dashboard.

Ianto’s grin had been positively sinful. “Morag’s on the Bay. It’s right across from Mermaid Quay. They do some incredibly delicious things on Sunday afternoons, plus there’s live music; Morag’s supports local bands, gives them a chance to be heard.”

The lift doors opened and Ianto exited the car and then the building with a jaunty step, knowing that Daffyd was still standing there, watching him walked away.

After they’d successfully achieved coffee complete with the lightest scones Ianto swore he’d ever eaten, they enjoyed going out casually at least once a week for several months. They went to the cinema – they both loved Monday Night Film Noir at the Bijou – they shared a love of live theatre, seeing classics ‘Hello, Dolly’ and ‘Showboat’ as those troupes came through Cardiff. They went with Rhys to several Rugby games and then to Rhys’ local to celebrate the home team’s wins.

And then came the Saturday morning when Daffyd knocked on Ianto’s front door and when it opened, he said, “I want to be more than friends, Ianto, I want more than this casual thing we’ve got going on.” He noticed a sparkle in Ianto’s eyes. ‘Is he getting ready to blow me off or agree with me? I can’t tell!’ 

“Go on.”

Encouraged and with the beginnings of a goofy grin on his face, Daffyd boldly asked, “Ianto, would you go to dinner with me tonight? Say Bellini’s on Mermaid Quay at nine?”

With a bark of laughter, Ianto leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on Daffyd’s lips. “I was growing so bloody old waiting for you to ask!”

***** 

Daffyd sighed and looked down at his hands for a moment before facing Ianto. “I think I can explain…” he paused and then pushed on. “This all has to do with something that happened last week.”

“Does this have anything to do with the mushroom and chicken risotto?” Ianto raised an elegant eyebrow as he took a sip of his wine.

“In a way, yes.” Daffyd leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “Last week, Nigel Patrick came into the dealership. Now, he’s been a steady, reliable customer for the last nine years. He comes in every year at the same time, trades in the family car and gets a new one. He gets the same exact same model every time, a four-door, kid-friendly, navy blue sedan. Every year, same time, same car, same features. Except this year… This year he comes in right on schedule and do you know what he leased?”

“I have no idea,” Ianto smiled and motioned at the passing busboy and indicated his water glass, which the young man quickly refilled with a return smile. 

Daffyd leaned forward towards Ianto as though he were going to impart an important secret. “Ianto, this year he leased a brand-new, just-hit-the-showroom-floor, bright red convertible sports car.” He shook his head, a look of amazement on his face. “He just walked right in and got the convertible, no thinking about it, no comparison shopping, no trying to get a better deal, nothing. He just got the sports car.”

Ianto tried not to roll his eyes. “What’s this got to with the risotto?”

“It has to do with change, Ianto!” Daffyd became animated, his face lighting up as he spoke. “It was in that moment when Nigel signed his name and bought that convertible that I had my ‘road to Damascus’ moment. I remembered then what my father used to say to me; so many times he’d say, ‘Daffyd, if you don’t like something, change it’.”

“Not quite Dylan Thomas, but okay, have your risotto!” Ianto chuckled and leaned back in his chair, playing with the stem of his wine glass before deciding he was feeling too peckish to wait for his meal.

This time it was Daffyd’s turn to roll his eyes with annoyance. “You’re not quite getting it, Ianto.” He took a drink of water, giving himself a moment to compose his thoughts. With a determined look on his face, he raised his eyes and met Ianto’s blue-grey ones.

“Ianto, I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Ianto’s jaw dropped and he choked for a moment on the breadstick he’d been nibbling. “Sorry… What did you say?”

“There has to be more to life than butternut ravioli and…”

“We’ve been together for five years and you’ve always loved the butternut ravioli!” Ianto exclaimed.

Beginning to lose patience, Daffyd let out a long sigh as he sat back in his chair. “I’m bored, Ianto. I need some excitement in my life.”

“Are you saying I’m boring?”

Again, Daffyd rolled his eyes, “Call me crazy but I’d like to date someone who doesn’t know what they want without ever opening the menu. Someone who wants to go to a different restaurant once in a while.”

“Fine!” Ianto threw his arms up in the air. “I’ll change! Where’s the waiter? I’ll have the manicotti,” he called out to anyone who might be listening.

Aware that people were now looking at them, Daffyd leaned in closer, trying to bring the conversation back to just the two of them. “This is bigger than manicotti. Look at you, Yan; you’re a great guy. It’s just that lately I’ve been thinking I need something different, something less… predictable.”

“Predictable? Are you kidding me?! I just wrote and sold an investigate story about how the chipmunks in Bute Park are depressed cos the squirrels are taking over! Something to do with tails… tail envy… I don’t really…” He waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway, don’t you dare say that was predictable!”

“Yan, I need someone that when he walks in the room I get butterflies in my stomach.” Daffyd’s tone was imploring, as though he were pleading with Ianto to understand. “I want that. I want that once-in-a-lifetime special moment. I deserve that and so actually, do you.”

Ianto was finding it hard to come up with a suitable argument; in the very depths of his soul, he’d thought about meeting someone just like that. Finally, his brain latched on to the closest thing it could find, however illogical. “But we live in the same building, Daffyd, don’t you think that’s going to be awkward?”

Daffyd sat back in his chair with an ‘I hadn’t thought of that’ look. “You’re right…”

Ianto sat back also with a self-satisfied look on his face, as though he’d just fixed the breaking-up scenario.

“…guess you’re gonna have to move,” Daffyd finished with an approving nod, as though he’d just solved the entire dilemma.

“But it’s almost Valentine’s Day!” Ianto hated the needy whinge in his voice, but he couldn’t help it. In his mind, all the lovely things he’d planned for the two of them were being flushed right down the toilet.

At that moment, the waiter appeared with their meals.

“I’ll take mine to go,” Daffyd pointed to his dish, “and Ianto?” He didn’t wait for his former boyfriend to answer. “Would you get the gentleman a tiramisu as well, please?”

***** 

Ianto Jones sat alone on the underground, slowly eating his dessert in little bites, a look of abject misery on his face, not really focussed on anything. Gradually he became aware that someone was looking at him, and he dragged his gaze up to look around. On the other side of the aisle, several seats away, there was a dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes sitting on bench seat facing his, and the man was smiling at him.

Ianto offered back a small twitch of his lips and went back to nibbling at his tiramisu, but the sensation of being watched grew stronger. He looked back up and the man widened his smile and nodded to him as he sipped from his paper coffee cup. This time, Ianto actually smiled back but then broke eye contact to glance out the window and when he looked back he saw that the man was licking his lips in an exaggerated fashion.

Eyes widening with disgust, Ianto was about to say something when he saw the man point to his upper lip, and then slip his tongue out again. Suddenly catching on, Ianto felt a blush of embarrassment start climbing his cheeks as he reached up and touched his upper lip, finding to his horror that there was a bit of custard stuck there. He nodded his thanks to the man just as he raised his cup and took another sip; when he lowered the cup, there was a foamy moustache left behind.

The man rolled his eyes dramatically and shook his head as he licked his lip clean and grinned at Ianto.

Smiling at the silly antic, Ianto opened his mouth to speak when the underground came to an abrupt halt and people instantly filled the aisle. It took several long seconds before Ianto could see the man’s seat again, but to his immense disappointment the blue-eyed man was gone. 

Ianto narrowed his eyes and looked closer at the seat. Lying there was his mobile; it had been forgotten, or perhaps it had slipped out of the man’s pocket unobserved. He leapt up and darted forward, snagging the phone and then rushing for the door, hoping to catch the man but commuters getting on the train pushed him out of the way and just as he got to the door again, it shut right in his face. 

When Ianto to go his stop, he approached the ticket counter. “I’d like to turn in a lost item.”

“Lost property, Form 2108D.” The man behind the window slid a form on a clipboard complete with a pen on a chain in his direction. “Fill out the information and if we find your item, we’ll let you know.” His thoroughly bored tone was a clear indication that he’d said the same thing way too many times to count.

“No, I didn’t lose anything. I found someth…” Ianto tried to explain.

“We don’t have a form for that.”

Ianto looked at him with frustration. “I don’t understand.”

“Look, I just work here. People don’t just turn stuff in, ya know?”

Ianto pointed through the glass at small pile of items, including several mobiles, some keys, a pacifier, two baby bottles, even a wallet, and on the shelf behind that were several umbrellas. “What’s all that?”

It was clear the man was doing his best to maintain his composure. “Every night we sweep the train cars and this is the stuff that we find, the stuff people leave behind as they rush to get home. What can I say,” and he shrugged his shoulders. “It all ends up in here,” and he reached under the counter and pulled out a large orange duffle plunking it down; the clunk it made as it hit the counter was proof that it contained a lot of other lost items.

Realising he was getting nowhere, Ianto nodded with resignation, “Never mind, I’m going to keep the phone and see if I can’t find the owner myself.”

“If you say so,” the man retrieved his clipboard, clearly relieved that he didn’t have to do any work at the moment.

***** 

“There’s a spag bol on the stove, if you’re hungry.” Rhys Williams came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a tea towel and saw the look of distress on his roommate’s face. “Okay, what’s wrong, mate?”

“Daffyd broke up with me.”

Rhys punched the air with delight but immediately changed his tune when he saw Ianto’s jaw drop. “I mean, oh no! That’s so awful! That bad, bad man!”

“It’s all right, I know you didn’t like him.” Ianto smiled ruefully.

“It’s not that I didn’t…” Rhys shook his head. “Yeah, no, never liked him, not a bit. Might even have hated him. Sorry.” He perched on the arm of the sofa next to Ianto. “I just always thought you could do better.”

Ianto smiled sadly.

“All right, tell me what happened,” Rhys picked up the remote and turned off the muted TV.

“He said he was bored, that he wanted something different,” he shrugged. “What am I supposed to do, how am I supposed to be any different in my life?” He knew he sounded pathetic but at the moment, Ianto Jones just didn’t care. “He says I’m predictable. Am I predictable, Rhys? Am I?”

Rhys slid down onto the seat and flung an arm around Ianto’s shoulders for a moment. “No! Not at all, Yan! You’re a good person, a really good person.”

“Thank you, Rhys, you always say the nicest things.” 

“Well, that’s because it’s the truth!”

Ianto put a small bite of his tiramisu in his mouth. “I am a good person, aren’t I. I do nice things for people all the time! I mean, I hold doors open for people, and at the market I let people with just one or two things go ahead of me in checkout. I donate all my clothes to the charity shops, and at work, Geraint sends me cat videos and train videos every single day, dozens of them, and I always say thank you even though I don’t look at them.”

“Yeah? See?” Rhys nodded encouragingly.

“And you probably don’t know this about me, but I drop five-pence coins on the sidewalk just so people can find them.” 

Rhys laughed with delight. “Is that why old man Wiggins is always looking down, watching the pavement when he leaves the building?”

Ianto shrugged in defeat. “Who am I kidding?” He poked his fork around the plastic container holding the remains of his dessert. “Nobody’s going to fall in love with me again, not when I’m just predictable old Ianto Jones.”

“Are you kidding me?” Rhys jumped to his feet. “There’s lots of guys out there!” He headed into the kitchen to stir the sauce, calling over his shoulder, “hundreds of guys even!”

“Yeah, name one.” Ianto shoved a bite of tiramisu into his mouth, sucking the fork clean as he pulled it from his lips.

“Ummm…” Rhys returned and set a glass of red wine down in front of Ianto, sipping on his own as he considered. “Well, there’s Rory, from the Rugby, you know the one with the shaved head?”

“I don’t think he’s gay, Rhys.” 

A look of true surprise came across Rhys’ face. “Are you sure? No, he’s got to be gay; have you seen the way…?”

Ianto shook his head. “Nope.”

“Well, I’ll be darned.” He thought for a moment, “What about Stewart? He’s always had a thing for you.”

“My drycleaner?” Ianto looked aghast. “Oh no! No, I’m not crossing that line! Do you know how hard it is to find a good drycleaner and he’s the best the valley! Nobody can do my suits like he does!” Ianto shook his head adamantly. “Absolutely not!”

“Okay, fine!” Rhys grabbed the plastic container of tiramisu remnants from Ianto’s hands and plunked it down on top of the bookcase. “You’re never gonna find love again, you’re just gonna grow old and die with a dozen cats around to eat your dead body, is that what you want to hear?”

Ianto sniffled miserably as visions of his corpse growing mouldy and smelly filled his head. “No,” he whispered as he used the tea towel Rhys threw at his head to mop at the tears suddenly rolling down his cheeks.

“Oh, don’t cry, Yan, you know I can’t do crying.” Rhys looked around helplessly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. The cats won’t eat you, I promise. Well, probably not much anyway.”

As hoped, Ianto gave a watery chuckle, wiped his eyes and picked up the mobile on the table in front of him.

“Oh no, you don’t, mate!” Rhys lunged forward and tried to grab the phone from Ianto’s hand. “You’re not texting that miserable bastard! He just broke your heart!”

“No, it’s not that. This is… I found this on the subway and I just wanna look at the guy’s contacts so I can get it back to him. UGGHH! There’s a security code!” he sighed dramatically.

Rhys nodded knowingly. “Try 1… 2… 3… 4.”

Ianto pressed the numbers and the phone’s menu appeared. “How did you know that?” He was impressed.

“It’s everybody’s passcode,” Rhys said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“It… huh?” Ianto looked horrified. “It’s certainly not mine!”

“Yeah, well…” Rhys gulped. “It’s not mine either!” and he made a quick mental note to change his code as soon as Ianto couldn’t see him do it.

“There’s a note here says, ‘if you find this contact Jack Harkness’ and he’s on south State Street.” Ianto nudged Rhys. “Here, give me your phone,” and when he had it in hand, Ianto dialled the number listed on Jack’s contact page, putting it on speaker phone so they could both hear.

“Hey, this is Jack, I’m out of the country right now so don’t leave a message. I’ll see you after my latest adventure.”

Rhys waggled his eyebrows. “Adventure? Who is this guy, Marco Polo?” He grabbed Jack’s phone from Ianto’s lap and brought up his picture gallery, scrolling through one amazing photo after another. There was one of the man sitting in the cockpit of a military fighter jet, in scuba gear floating underwater… “he dives with sharks!” and a couple of pictures later, “he jumps off cliffs!” and then “he goes white-water rafting!” and finally, “he runs with…” Rhys turned to Ianto with his jaw hanging down in utter amazement.

“He runs with the bulls! Ianto, this guy’s incredible! He’s the perfect man for you!”

“Rhys, don’t be a twpsyn! My boyfriend just broke up with me. I’m not looking for someone new and besides this guy might not even be gay.” Ianto couldn’t help himself from looking at more of Jack’s pictures and the he gasped, holding the mobile out for Rhys to see.

“Wait, is this a real lion?” They both stared in awe at the photo of the man from the underground kneeling beside a very large lion, his hand resting on the animal’s mane. “Who is this guy!”

“I don’t know, but…” Inspiration struck and Ianto beamed. “I’m gonna get to know him and make him the basis for my next story!”

“How are you going to do that?” Rhys demanded. “He just said he’s out of the country.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ianto deflated like a pricked balloon.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto's search begins.

Rhys’ delicious-as-always spag bol had been eaten, the leftovers were packed and in the fridge, the dishes had been washed and put away, and the men were getting ready to settle in front of the telly to watch ‘Strictly Come Dancing’. It was the semi-finals and they each had their own favourite couple they were cheering on. Into set mugs of steaming coffee down on the table while Rhys went over to close the window. 

He peeked out at the street below and then giggled softy. “You oughta see this,” he whispered.

“Why, what is it?” Ianto was busy finding the correct channel.

“It’s Mr Wiggins!”

Ianto wasn’t really interested, they were showing highlights of last week’s program. “What’s he doing?”

“He’s staring at the ground, looking for five-pence!” Rhys closed the window and plopped down next to Ianto, grabbing his mug along the way and enjoying a long slow sip of coffee.

Just as the first couple took to the floor, Rhys’ phone beeped, indicating a text had just come in. Ianto scooped it up before the other man could reach it.

Are you the person who found my phone? Please text back 

Ianto stared at the screen for a few seconds. “What do I do?”

Rhys paused the telly and took the phone, quickly pulled up the emoji screen, sending one in response before showing the phone to Ianto.

“You sent him a picture of an alien? He’s going to think I’m a lunatic!” 

“Yeah, and that you’re interesting!” Rhys laughed and then he texted, yes, I have your phone 

Immediately the phone beeped back. Are you the guy on the train? 

Ianto’s eyes lit up. “He remembers me!”

Rhys read the next message, the one with the polished shoes eating dessert? And then he heard what he’d read and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Ianto, please tell me you were not eating cheesecake on the subway again!”

“No, it was actually tiramisu from Bellini’s and it was delicious; I couldn’t resist so I ate it on the way home.” Ianto grabbed the phone back as it beeped. “Now, give me this!”

I’m at the airport heading for Paris. This phone I use for international travel only

“This guy sounds like James Bond!” Rhys laughed.

“I know!” The phone beeped again.

I want to meet you

Ianto frowned. “What do I say?”

Rhys took the phone again and began to type. Yes, I can meet you. When

There was an immediate reply, back on February 14th 

“He wants to meet on Valentine’s Day?”

Rhys grimaced. “What do you care? You’re to going to be busy.” Ianto jabbed him in the ribs but he went on texting a reply. Okay

Hold onto my phone until then 

where should we meet? Rhys texted.

Kimi’s 9pm

Ianto frowned. “Kimi’s?”

“Yeah, that bar by my old flat.”

“Oh yeah! Nice place.” Ianto nodded approvingly as he reached for his coffee.

Rhys’ fingers few over the little keypad, clearly typing in far more than just ‘okay’.

“What are you telling him?” Ianto clutched at his mug.

“I’m telling him that you’re a free-lance journalist and I’m asking if it’s okay that you do a story on him.”

As the phone beeped again, the butterflies in Ianto’s stomach met his sip of coffee. “What’s he saying?”

What kind of story

“He wants to know what kind of story.”

“Tell him that I’m a very important writer for an internationally recognised magazine and that I write profiles on interesting people.”

Rhys didn’t kook impressed. “Yeah.” He started typing again but Ianto poked him.

“Don’t edit me, just type that!”

What makes you think I’m so interesting

With a grin, Rhys replied, speaking aloud as he typed, just a hunch I’d like to get to know you better to be sure and he added a smiley face.

“Rhys!” Ianto was horrified. “Don’t send that! Oh, God, I’m so embarrassed. I’m just gonna crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment.” He hid his face in his hands, barely avoiding spilling his coffee as he did so.

The phone beeped immediately; Rhys read the test and gave out a bark of laughter. “He says you have everyone I know in the palm of your hand. Go for it.” He turned the phone so Ianto could see the screen.

GO FOR IT!

***** 

Ianto’s first stop was in a ballroom in the St David’s hotel, where he was met by a sign just outside the door that said ‘Tango, Tango’ by Antonio. He stepped inside to find four couples sweeping effortlessly and in perfect unison across the floor while an Argentinian tango played on the stereo. 

“Thanks again for meeting me,” he smiled recognising the handsome young man who approached him from the photo in Jack’s contact list. 

“My pleasure.”

Into pulled off his coat and removed a small digital recorder from his jacket pocket. “May I?” he asked permission before turning it on.

“Of course,” Antonio nodded.

“I found your number on Jack’s phone and I’m trying to interview everyone to find out what kind of man he is,” he explained.

Antonio frowned. “Does Jack know you’re doing this?”

“Yes!” Ianto grinned. “In fact, he told me to go for it!”

The other man laughed. “Yes, that does sound like our Jack. He’s a very generous person, an extraordinary man. He has the potential to be a great tango dancer as well.”

“So, Jack is a dancer?”

“Actually, he’s a photojournalist. He came here to do a story and learn about the tango and quickly became enchanted with our world.” 

They were distracted at that moment when a couple twirled themselves close enough that Ianto could smell the woman’s perfume. He found himself staring at the way the dancers were looking into one another’s eyes, as though they could see straight into their partner’s soul. It was mesmerising. Ianto found himself wanting to feel the woman’s hand on his own skin as she gently caressed the side of the man’s face and he gasped out a tiny breath as her partner pulled her forcefully against his body.

And then just as abruptly as they’d appeared, they were gone, long strides across the floor carrying them away.

Antonio sighed deeply. “You see the amore of the tango, my friend.”

“What makes Jack a good dancer?”

Antonio’s eyes grew bright. “The tango is a game of allurement.” He moved gracefully in front of and then around Ianto, leading him slowly towards the dance floor. “It begins in the eyes, with a glance. The dance epitomises the dancer’s loneliness and secret desires.”

Ianto nodded, even if he wasn’t quite sure he completely understood.

“Tell, me, Mr Jones, have you ever danced the tango?”

“Who me?” Ianto spluttered. “Oh no!”

“Come now, everyone must dance; everyone has a dance inside them!” Antonio held out his hand.

Embarrassed, Ianto looked around nervously. “No, really. I… honestly, I have two left feet. The last time I danced was at my cousin Nerys’ wedding and we did the line dance from ‘Footloose’ and they actually asked me to leave the dance floor.” 

“Oh, Mr Jones, you must dance the tango.” Antonio was deadly serious as he looked around and then spotted one of his instructors standing talking to the others now that the music had stopped. “Caesar! Come!” and he clicked his fingers imperiously.

Immediately, Caesar responded, and as soon as he was beside them, Antonio grabbed Ianto’s hand and placed it in Caesar’s. 

“No!” Ianto protested, “I really think I should go.” He tried to back away, but Caesar held on, his gaze burning into Ianto. “Oh, for…” and he allowed the handsome man to lead him onto the dance floor.

Caesar swept him into his arms, pulling Ianto firmly against his body. “Just feel,” he said confidently.

“Oh, good Lord, what is happening right now?” Ianto murmured and in a slightly louder voice he said, “just so you know, I have the six-forty back into Cardiff.”

“No,” Caesar shook his head. “Nothing else matters because tonight, we have… the tango,” and he assumed the perquisite dancing position.

As the music began to play, Ianto found himself lost in the sultry depths of Caesar’s eyes, his body following the man’s lead without Ianto even realising he was dancing until Caesar spun him away for a moment, only to twirl him back in again and crush him hard against his chest.

“You,” Caesar breathed deeply, “mi amore, are a natural tango dancer!”

Ianto was breathless as the powerful man led him back and forth across the dance floor, their bodies moving as one, and when Caesar dipped him, Ianto felt something inside himself break free, something that had been kept chained up for far too long.

***** 

Daffyd Collins tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the lift to come to his floor, and finally, it pinged and the doors slid open. He took one step forward and then froze in place as the interior of the car was revealed.

Eyes closed, a look of sheer happiness on his face, and completely unaware that he was being observed, Ianto Jones blissfully swayed and danced his way back and forth, a long-stemmed red rose held in his hand as a partner. As he dipped his flower and rose up again, he opened his eyes, looking directly into Daffyd’s. He found the look of utter confusion on the man’s face amusing and so he smiled brightly as the doors closed without Daffyd getting in and the lift carried Ianto on up to his floor.

***** 

“So, how was it seeing Daffyd again?” 

Ianto appeared from the kitchen, mugs of steaming coffee in his hands. He gave one to Rhys and then settled on the floor across the coffee table from the man, all the while eyeing the box of pastries he was currently opening.

“I don’t know,” Ianto selected a custard tart from the proffered box and set it on a napkin. “It’s strange when you see someone every single day for so long, and then suddenly you don’t.” He sipped his coffee. “But it was okay, I was okay, I think.” Ianto got a pensive look on his face. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him, Rhys. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in love.”

“Huh…” Rhys shoved half a pain au chocolat croissant in his mouth and washed it down with a large swig of coffee, then gasped. “Oh! Hot, hot!” as he fanned his tongue. 

“Oh! Did I tell you I found my next lead on Jack’s story?”

“Yeah, who?”

Ianto shook his head. “All I know is her name is China Howe and she says she has a complicated relationship with him.”

***** 

Ianto grunted as a large dog clambered over the seat and into his lap, seemingly encouraged by the barking of the other dogs in the back of the estate wagon. The woman driving glanced over, took in his horrified expression and laughed.

“Don’t worry, she won’t bite!”

Deciding not to disillusion the woman – she didn’t look like the type to care that the animal was shedding all over his suit – Ianto smiled. “You have a lot of dogs,” and he looked over his shoulder at the other three, all looking back at him and wagging their tails. 

“Yeah, I do,” China looked in the rear-view mirror and smiled fondly. “You like dogs, don’t you?”

Ianto shrugged. “I never had a dog growing up, so frankly, even if it makes me sound like a wimp to admit it, they do scare me a little.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about them. They’re all lovely, well-behaved animals.” She grinned at him and reached out to pat the dog in his lap, then leaned in close. “Yes, you are, now give me some kisses.”

To Ianto’s disgust, the dog licked the side of China’s face several times. Dog hair all over his clothes was one thing but dog slobber on his face? That concept absolutely confirmed the idea that he would never own a dog.

“Dogs are my life,” she confided. “In fact, dogs saved my life… well, actually Jack saved my life.”

“How did you meet Jack?” 

“It was about ten years ago now, I was waitressing in this little diner in Swansea and he sat in my section. Well, that day it was all my section cos the other girl hadn’t come in. I was being run ragged off my feet, the cook kept ringing that damn bell for pick-up, people were waving me down and calling me to bring more coffee or water or menus or to place their order.” China shook her head. 

“When I got to Jack’s table I was frazzled beyond belief and he asked me if I was all right. I found myself suddenly plopping down in the seat across from him and just pouring my heart out about how bad I was at my job, and how much I really hated waitressing.”

“That must have been awful.”

“Wha…?”

“No! I mean, that morning, working alone, all the customers,” Ianto hastily amended. “Not the Jack part. Sounds like he was an island of calm in a sea of chaos.”

“Yeah, he was. There’s just something about him that makes you feel safe.” China nodded in agreement and continued. “Anyway, ‘tell me something’, he says, ‘do you know Confucius?’ and I laughed and said, ‘Yup, he used to be a regular but then I gave him a milkshake instead of juice and so now he goes to the place down the street’.”

Ianto chuckled. “That’s pretty funny.”

“Jack thought so, but then he said, ‘Confucius said that a man who finds a job that he loves never works a day in his life’. I think about that all the time, cos that’s the exact moment Jack saved my life.”

Ianto was intrigued. “How so?”

“He asked me what I loved, more than anything.” She gave a wry smile. “I said, toast, and he responded with, ‘Well, yeah, toast is good, it’s interesting, but not really a career choice’. He asked me again what did I love, really love and I told him I loved dogs. That’s what I love more than anything.”

Having warmed up to the over-sized lap dog he was holding, Ianto nodded. “I can see that.”

“Wasn’t there a film or something with ‘gotta love dogs’ or ‘must love dogs’ as a memorable tag line?” China laughed gaily. “And now I can’t remember it!”

Ianto searched his memory. “It does sound familiar…”

“Anyway, I could see that Jack wanted to say something but the cook was slamming his hand down on that bell, over and over again, so I tell Jack that I’ve got to go bring someone their scrambled eggs or something, and before I left the table I asked him if he wanted anything and he said a cup of coffee would be great.”

“You said that Jack rescued you; how did he do that?”

“Jack has this uncanny ability to see people for who they really are,” China’s tone was earnest. “He just taps into those places in our hearts that we just long to have touched, you know?” 

Ianto nodded, he did indeed know all about that.

“Well, a short time later, after I’d delivered the meals that had backed up at the service window, I approached Jack’s table again. Only, I didn’t have his coffee in my hands, I had my coat and purse.”

“Oh, no…” Ianto knew what was coming.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “He stopped working on his crossword, looked up at me and said, ‘What happened?’ It was so heartfelt, like he honestly wanted to know, so I sat down again and this time told him I’d just been fired and when he asked me what I was going to do, I just shrugged and said get another waitressing job, by tomorrow.”

A memory flooded Ianto’s mind, from back in his Uni days, living paycheck to paycheck when usually there wasn’t enough paycheck to make it to the next check.

“He looked at me for a moment, like he was studying me, then he stood up, took my hand and said, ‘Come with me, I want to show you something; I want to take you somewhere’.” China reached back and patted one of the dogs behind her. 

“Where did you go?” Ianto felt a sense of anticipation, like a kid waiting for the best part of the bedtime story to be read to him.

“Jack took me to a park where a class was being held. It was people training service dogs, you know, like the ones for the blind or disabled or people who need emotional support animals. It was a place that changed my life. Within a week I’d traded in short stacks and scrambled eggs for something that has become my life’s passion. When I asked how he knew about this amazing organisation, he said that he’d had a boyfriend once who’d needed a dog.”

“Wow…”

“But you know, when he said about the boyfriend, there was so much sadness, almost grief even on his face and all the light went out of his eyes. I wanted to know, to hear that story, but my heart said it was something I couldn’t ask about. I’m not sure anyone can.”

Ianto couldn’t find the words to say anything.

“So, we stood there for a while, watching all the dogs, different breeds and sizes and there was even one old dog, white muzzle, joints stiff with age, but he kept up with the younger ones as they learned and played.” China sighed softly. “It was like Jack had found a very special key and had unlocked a part of me I didn’t even know existed. I just turned to him, thanked him and hugged him as tightly as I could and all he said was ‘You’re welcome’.”

She saw the dog in Ianto’s lap nudging at the window, so she pushed the button and lowered it a bit, making room for the dog to stick his muzzle out into the wind blowing by. “I’ll always be grateful to Jack; he’s the one who helped me find what truly makes my heart sing, what makes me get out of bed for each day, and I don’t mean cos there’s chores that need doing and mouths that need feeding, but what makes me look forward to each day. I will always love Jack.”

“Did you date at all?” Even though he knew Jack was gay… or at least he thought he was… Ianto could sense that there was a more personal connection between Jack and China.

“Yeah, for a while, but we were just friends doing stuff together, you know, like going to a film or the Rugby or lunch,” she shrugged, “you know, just friend stuff. It was never going to be anything romantic.”

“You don’t do that anymore? Why did it end for you? If you don’t mind me asking, that is!” Ianto stammered, feeling a sudden blush hit his cheeks.

China turned to him with a very serious expression on her face. “I think to really understand Jack, you have to know what happened with Gareth.”

The vehicle slowed down and Ianto turned to look out the window, to see where they were. He was greeted by a white picket fence surrounding the front garden of a lovely cottage and he caught a glimpse of another, larger building behind as the car turned into the drive. Then he saw the sign.

CHINA’S ANIMAL RESCUE it proudly announced and there was a logo with the outline of a big heart with a small cat standing facing a large dog. 

Ianto looked at her in amazement as the car followed the arc of the driveway and he could see several quite large fenced-in yards with dogs running around, there were some covered kennels, and behind all that was a pasture where two stocky little Welsh Mountain Ponies calmly grazed, their short stature leaving them halfway hidden in the tall grass. “I cannot believe this is all yours!”

“Well, I couldn’t have done any of it without Jack.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet little Jack.

Daffyd pulled his mail from the bank of locked boxes and was thumbing through absentmindedly as he wandered toward the lift. He glanced up to push the button and found himself staring in amazement at Ianto, who was kneeling with his arms around a dog which was licking his face.

“Ianto?”

Ianto looked up and grinned, standing up as the dog fell into position right at his side. “Daffyd, hi.”

Daffyd couldn’t take his eyes off the animal sitting there and he would have sworn it had a knowing smirk on its face, as though it knew all about him and found him wanting in more ways than one. 

“What’s wrong?” Ianto slid a loving hand along the dog’s body, from head to haunch and the dog leaned into him and cast an adoring glance at his new master.

“Whose dog is that? Who…”

“Mine.” Ianto’s grin widened. “This is my new dog. This is Boyfriend.” The two men knelt in unison and Ianto wrapped an arm around the dog’s neck. “Say hello to Boyfriend, and Boyfriend? This is Daffyd.”

Daffyd was startled, not only by the dog itself but by the name as well. “Okay, I’m really confused here. I thought always said that you hated dogs. I mean, I always wanted us to get a dog, but you always said, ‘over my dead body!’ cos they barked and made a mess and had to go for walks at the most inopportune times.”

“Oh, well, what can I say? Boyfriend is different. He loves me just the way I am, and I love him right back. Isn’t he wonderful?” Ianto stood up as the lift doors pinged open and he led his dog inside the car. “Are you coming?”

“Ahh, no gotta collect my mail…” he gestured at the envelopes and magazines that were now on the floor, having been nudged out of his hand by a very wet but inquisitive nose.

“Okay, then. Say good-bye to Daffyd, Boyfriend.” Ianto’s smile was filled with happiness. “Bye, Daffyd,” and Boyfriend added his woof as the doors closed on a very unhappy Daffyd.

***** 

Ianto sat in the middle of his bed, working on his story about Jack. Boyfriend lay at the foot of the bed, his brand-new dog bed lying on the floor still unused. Ianto had just finished re-reading what he’d written so far, crossing ‘T’s, dotting ‘I’s and making minor changes here and there when his mobile beeped with a text.

Greetings from Paris where it is beautiful and romantic

Isn’t Paris always romantic? he answered.

It took a moment for the reply to come through. Ever been?

With a rueful smile, Ianto typed in, No. I’ve never left the UK but a boy can dream

There was another long pause and then, what’s in your dreams? 

Ianto smiled at the phone and shook his head. “What it is it about this guy that makes me want to tell him everything?” he asked Boyfriend, who left off licking his paw to gaze at him adoringly.

***** 

“Jack and I used to work in a photo lab.” The man had to shout to be heard over the sound of wind rushing past the plane’s open door. “Back then I barely ever left my house; I went to work, came home and played video games.” He gently urged Ianto to slide down the bench seat, closer to the door.

“Then one day Jack brought me up here, told me to step out of my comfort zone.” The man laughed gleefully, showing a mouthful of very white teeth. “That guy showed me how to love life and look at me now!” He gestured towards the door. “Shall we?”

Ianto made the mistake of glancing out that door, seeing how very far away the ground was and he turned to his instructor looking like a deer caught in headlights. “No!” Ianto knew he was probably shrieking from fright. “I don’t think so! I’m too scared!”

The man shook his head, refusing to take no for an answer. “Goggles…” He pointed to Ianto’s head. “Goggles!” 

Without even thinking about it, Ianto reached up and slid his goggles down over his eyes. 

“Ready?” Ianto was pulled to his feet and pushed toward the metal step bolted on the outside of the plane’s door. “Set…!”

“No!” Ianto whimpered. “No…” His words were whipped away by the wind.

“One…” 

Ianto stepped out onto the little metal platform, all that stood between him and thousands of feet of nothingness.

“Two…”

His torso moved outside the door frame, while his hands had a death grip on the door’s edges.

“Three!”

There was a gentle nudge to Ianto’s back and suddenly, he was outside the plane, flying through the air like a bird on the wing. His initial scream of abject terror quickly changed to a shout of elation as he found himself soaring on the wind; it was over far too soon for his liking when his parachute automatically deployed, yanking him sharply upward and then letting him enjoy the more controlled downward drift.

His heart was pounding in his chest like it was a jackhammer and his mouth was dry as a bone from shouting, and he was absolutely sure that a bug of some kind had gone down his throat, but Ianto Jones had never, never, never felt so free in his entire life. 

***** 

“I love Jack,” the woman confided as she set a mug of tea in front of Ianto and then sat down next to him. “I don’t see enough of him; he’s always off on some great adventure, taking pictures.”

“How did you meet Jack?”

“Oh, we were neighbours,” the woman pushed the milk and sugar closer to Ianto. “Back then he used to help me around the house, you know, little things, like bring in the groceries, set the bins out, mow the lawn. He liked my son, Daniel. When I met Jack, Daniel was only eight, and he used to play this old keyboard.” She got up and moved some sheet music out of the way. “He used to play the same songs over and over again; drove me crazy!” She laughed. 

“You know, some nights when I had to work late, Jack would look after Daniel for me and he would sit and listen to my son play this keyboard, I mean, he just loved it. Thing is, Jack saw something in my child that I didn’t see. Then one night I came home from work and found Daniel sitting at this beautiful piano…” She took several steps to the side and Ianto could see an upright piano, its polished wood gleaming in the sunlight.

She pulled out the bench and sat down, lifted the lid and ran her fingertips gently along the keys without making a sound. “It was a gift from Jack. No one had ever done anything like that for me, for us. What kind of man cares so much for another’s child like that?” she asked. “Jack used to sit right here and watch Danial play and before you knew it, my child got pretty good.” Her face beamed with pride.

Ianto was almost afraid to ask the question, lest it have an unhappy answer but, “Where is Daniel now?”

If he’d thought she was smiling before, the way her face lit up the room was like the arena lights at the Millennium Stadium coming on for a match.

“He’s finishing up his degree in Music at Oxford this spring and then in the fall, he’s moving to New York to attend Julliard! And next month, he’s playing a concert at Carnegie Hall! Can you believe it?” There was a note of awe in her voice as she spoke of her son’s achievements. “All because Jack saw my boy’s raw talent and then nurtured it.”

Ianto finished his tea and se his mug down. “You know, it’s funny. I don’t even know him, but everyone I’ve met just makes me love him more and more,” he confided. “Crazy, right?”

“Not really,” she shook her head knowingly. 

“Every day I just want to hear more about his acts of kindness, his crazy adventures, his total fearlessness.”

“The most important thing you need to know about Jack is that it all comes from a place deep within his heart.” The woman smiled fondly. “You know for me, it wasn’t about him buying a piano but about the time he spent sitting here at the piano with my child, or the way he would sit on his porch and wait for me to come home from shopping just so he could help me carry in the groceries. He never let me pay him for any of the time he spent raking my leaves, fixing the kitchen faucet, washing my windows – mind you, he never said no to a plate full of cookies straight from the oven!” She laughed gaily at the memory. “Chocolate chip still warm and gooey, and a big glass of ice cold milk!” 

Ianto rolled his eyes with delight. “The best! I can still remember coming home from school when I was a kid and finding that me mam had left me the very same thing on the kitchen table. I never knew how she could time it so perfectly, have the temperatures so spot-on.”

“It was all about Jack teaching us the truth about living a worth-while life,” she was earnest again. “Teaching us that love is everything.”

***** 

The drive inland to Caerphilly was peaceful, not too much traffic on the road, and it let Ianto relax as he gazed out the windows at the passing scenery. Once again, he gave thanks for being born a Welshman.

He entered the small café at precisely one pm and found Matthew already sitting at a table by the window. After they ordered a coffee and a pastry – “Best you’ll ever have,” the older man promised – Ianto pulled out his portable recorder and set it down between them.

“Do you mind?”

Matthew shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”

“It’s my pleasure, Ianto, really.”

“So, you’re a journalist, Matthew?”

“Well, I’m a nurse but I cover elementary school sports for the local paper.” He grinned. “Every parent loves to read about their kids, and who knows, maybe someday, one of our local players will make it big and everyone can go back and read about them as a child.”

Ianto smiled at the image. “Do you work in a hospital?”

“Centre for Brain Injury and Rehabilitation,” he nodded. “They do some really great work there.”

“How did you meet Jack?”

“There at the Rehab Centre.”

Ianto paused for a moment, then he asked, “You said on the phone that you haven’t seen Jack for a while.”

“No, we text, but I think that at the end of the day it’s still just too painful for him.” There was a note of sadness to Matthew’s words.

“Oh…”

Seeing the concern on Ianto’s face, Matthew began to explain. “Jack hasn’t had the easiest life. His mother was absolutely devoted to her son. She thought the sun rose and set on her only child. She was a stay-at-home mum, so she was there when he woke up in the morning, when he got home from school and when he went to bed at night.”

***** 

Ellyse set the mixing bowl down on the kitchen counter and looked over to see what her son was working on. Jack was perched on a stool at the other end of the counter, surrounded by coloured construction paper, crayons, markers, a bottle of glue and several containers of coloured glitter.

“That’s the way, Jack, put the glue on first, right along the lines,” she encouraged.

“Then the glitter?”

“And then the glitter, that’s right. It’s going to be so pretty!” Ellyse set the tins of flour and sugar on the counter, retrieved the vanilla and chocolate chips from the cupboard, and then opened the fridge and took out the eggs. “Drat,” she murmured.

“What’s wrong, mum?” Jack paused in his drawing and looked up at his mother. She was making cookies, one of her normal Saturday afternoon baking pursuits. Next would come bread and he’d be allowed to ‘help’; Ellyse would give him a small blob of the risen dough to work with and he’d follow her lead in kneading and shaping it. Never mattered what it looked like when it came out of the oven she’d always declare that it was the best tasting bread roll she’d ever eaten. 

“I forgot to stop and get milk.” Ellyse untied her apron and set it on the counter. Just then, Jack’s dad came home from work; he was working on a big project and the client was only available to meet that Saturday afternoon. 

“Hey there, big guy,” Franklin stopped at Jack’s side and kissed his son’s head. “Whatcha working on?”

Jack moved his hands to show his dad the big heart he’d drawn on red construction paper. “I’m making it glued so I can glitter it, see?”

“I do, and it looks great, buddy.” He hugged and kissed Ellyse, “I’ve got to make one quick call and then I’ll change and come back to help, yeah?”

Ellyse smiled warmly at Franklin and then stepped down to Jack’s end of the counter. “You’re doing such a great job,” she praised. 

“Will you keep this card forever?”

Her face glowed with love. “Every year we’ll put this up on the mantel for everyone to see, yeah? Cos it is the most beautiful valentine I have ever seen.”

“It is?” Jack looked down at the paper with surprise.

“Yes, it is,” Ellyse confirmed. “And one day when you’re all grown up, you can give it to the person you love.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, one day you’re going to fall in love and get married, and then you’ll make your own traditions, just like daddy and I have now.”

Jack’s face lit up as he thought about being happy with someone special just like his mom and dad.

“Now, I’ve got to run down to the market and get some more milk.”

Jack looked up from his gluing. “I want to come with you.”

Ellyse smiled at her son. “You’ve got to stay here and make sure daddy doesn’t eat all our chocolate chips!” She moved over to the doorway and caught her husband’s attention. He was at the dining room table with the phone to his ear, papers spread out before him just like Jack had, although his weren’t as interesting or as glittery as Jack’s. “Going to the market, be right back,” she whispered and Franklin nodded before returning his attention to his call.

“Okay, now you work on your valentine and keep an eye on your daddy for me, all right?” Ellyse slipped on her sweater, collected her purse and took the keys from the hook by the door. She looked back at Jack, who was carefully pouring glitter atop all his glue, and smiled sweetly at him. 

“Jack?” He looked up at her. “I will always love you forever and ever,” she promised.

***** 

“Those words, ‘forever and ever’, stayed with Jack his entire life.” Matthew told her as he leaned back in his seat as the waitress arrived and set down large mugs of steaming coffee and a plate of scones with little pots of clotted cream and jam in front of them.

Ianto raised his mug to his nose and inhaled deeply, he could tell that he was really going to enjoy his coffee, and the mouth-watering scent of the scones made it clear they’d just come from the oven.

***** 

While the glitter dried over the glue, Jack painstakingly wrote his mother’s words, ‘I will always love you forever and ever’ around the pink, red and white heart on his card. Just as he was writing the ‘ever’ part the sound of an approaching siren caught his attention. Like any little boy, always thrilled to see the emergency vehicles with their flashing lights and brave men, Jack slid off his stool and ran to the living room window, arriving just in time to see an ambulance go racing past his house and on up the street. He watched until it was out of sight and then went back to the kitchen, catching his dad in the act of stealing some of the chocolate chips, just like his mom had warned him about.

***** 

Matthew cradled his coffee mug in front of his face for a moment before looking up at Ianto. “Jack’s mother died instantly,” he said softly, “leaving behind only Jack and his father, Franklin.”

“That is so tragic.” Ianto felt a lump rise up in his throat as he tried to comprehend how Jack must have felt the day he finally understood that the ambulance he was so excited to see go by his house was actually taking his mother away from him forever. The thought made Ianto’s heart ache to hold the little boy, to protect him from the harsh realities the world was about to throw at him.

“Their lives were forever changed,” Matthew agreed. “Franklin threw himself into his work, staying away at the office until late at night, leaving Jack home alone to think about what had been lost. He’d hired a sort of nanny/housekeeper but I remember Jack telling me once that she had all the warmth of the frozen food section at the market. It was a like a second loss, first his mum and then all the love and physical contact he was so used to getting from both his parents.” 

The lump in Ianto’s throat grew larger and he gave up trying to eat his scone, settling for just crumbling it up and squishing it around on his plate.

***** 

Jack sat at the opposite end of the dinner table, rather than next to his father in what had always been his seat. Now the space that had been his since was old enough to sit in a highchair was taken up by scads of papers, reports and print-outs. There was no room for a sad little boy to sit next to his dad; he had relegated to a spot as far away from his father as possible and still be at the same table. He looked at the slice of pizza on the plate before him and couldn’t find any interest in eating it.

“May I please be excused?”

It took a moment for Franklin to realise that Jack was speaking to him and he glanced over the top of the report he was reading. “Finish your dinner first,” and he went back to making notes on a different report than the one he was studying. Just then the phone rang; Franklin glanced at his watch, traded in the report he’d been holding for a sheaf of print-outs and got up from his chair. As he left the room he turned back to Jack, pointed at the uneaten food and nodded sternly, then he was gone.

Jack sighed a very deep sigh for a little boy. He looked at the pizza and then looked up, the top of the mantel catching his eye. Suddenly struck with an imperative mission, he slid from his chair, went around the table and climbed onto the extra chair next to the fireplace. Stretching on his tiptoes, Jack was just able to get his fingers on the beautiful red and pink valentine sitting pride of place on the wooden mantel. Taking great care not to bend the paper, Jack clambered back down and hurried into the lounge, where he crouched in front of ‘his’ bookcase.

It was his bookcase because his mother had told him so. It was where she put the books that he liked to look at and which they read together, where a tray held his school papers and things, including photographs of many beautiful and faraway places he had carefully cut out of magazines – ‘I’m going to go there one day,’ he’d show them to Ellyse, ‘and you can come with me,’ he would tell her – and where a box held all his crayons, markers, glue and an entire rainbow of glitter; there were also packs of coloured paper, drawing paper and all the other things a budding young artist could possibly need to be creative.

Hidden behind the row of books was Jack’s treasure chest; it was an old tin lunchbox, painted yellow, faded, dented and scratched with age. It had been his grandmother’s once upon a time, and now it held Jack’s most special possessions. He pulled it from its hiding place and carefully placed the valentine card inside, looking at it for a long time before hiding it away. It would be years before he saw it again.

***** 

Matthew thanked the waitress for their coffee refills, stirred sugar and cream into his, and finally he spoke again. “For many months after that, Jack felt very alone, at home and in school. That is, until he met Gareth, a year to day, in fact. It was art class and they were seated at the same table, sharing the supplies. He happened to look over in time to see him write ‘I will always love you forever and ever’ across the front of his card.” 

***** 

Gareth finished writing in his very best printing on the Valentine’s Day card he was making for his mother and glanced up to see Jack watching him intently. He smiled at him tentatively; he was new to the class and hadn’t really made any friends. To his amazement, instead of smiling back or saying hello, the boy sitting next to him abruptly jumped up from his seat and ran out of the room. Confused and worried, Gareth followed him, finding him outside in the playground, sitting on a swing.

Sitting down in the swing next to him, Gareth studied him for a moment. “What’s wrong, Jack?”

“Nothing.” Jack shuffled his feet in the dirt, unable to look at Gareth.

“Don’t you like making valentines?” 

Jack just shook his head.

“That’s all right, then, we can just sit out here,” he began swinging gently, to and fro. “Besides, I like Easter much better than Valentine’s Day anyway.” His words were blurted out as though he were confessing something to him that no one else knew. “Don’t you, Jack?”

Jack looked over at him and smiled, nodding before looking back down at his feet. He didn’t want to have anything to do with Valentine’s Day ever again, but that afternoon the art teacher wouldn’t let him work on anything else but a big card for his mother. She too was new to the school and didn’t know that Jack’s mum had died on the holiday the year before.

Gareth paused in his swinging long enough to let go of the chain with one hand. “Every year I get to wear my big straw hat…” he lifted his hand over his head to indicate just how impressively tall his hat was, “and eat lots and lots of chocolate, and paint eggs every colour under the rainbow.”

Interested and amused by Gareth, Jack looked over at him again, this time maintaining eye contact albeit silently.

“Tell me, Jack, tell me you like Easter best of all!” he commanded. “Tell me!”

There was something special about Gareth, something he’d never noticed in a boy before and was unable to resist, Jack sat up a little straighter in his swing. “I like Easter best of all,” he told him quietly.

Gareth put his hand to his ear, “Louder! I can’t hear you!”

“I like Easter best of all.”

“Louder! I can’t hear you!” he repeated. 

A grin lit up Jack’s face and when Gareth put out his hand, Jack took hold of it and with big smiles, together they declared as loudly as they could,

“I like Easter best of all!”

***** 

Matthew returned from a quick trip to the men’s room, and after he’d sat down, Ianto cocked his head and said, “it sounds like Jack was lucky to have a new friend like Gareth.” He’d been thinking a lot about little Jack in the few minutes he’d been alone at the table.

“Yeah,” Matthew agreed, “that’s the wonderful thing about love; it’s just as great a gift for the giver as it is for the one who receives it.” 

Ianto smiled a very happy agreement over the rim of his mug as he sipped his coffee. ‘That is the perfect way to look at it.’ 

“Their lives were never the same after that,” Matthew held the café’s door open for Ianto to follow him outside. “They were the best of friends all through school, then they went to college together at Oxford, and after four years they came back to Cardiff, rented a small house… I remember Jack was a portrait photographer back then, while Gareth was an accomplished baker. He used to make pies, cakes, and all kinds of cookies and pastries to sell to the local restaurants and coffee shops.”

They strolled slowly down the sidewalk, Ianto holding the small Dictaphone up so that he could catch Matthew’s words. 

“They were very much in love and even talked about getting married someday, hoping that on some day way in the future, they could make things official. And then on one day, everything just…” Matthew paused and sighed deeply, “changed.”

***** 

It was a beautiful fall day, the air was crisp, the leaves were turning colours, and because it was mid-week, they had the bike trails pretty much to themselves.

Gareth was ahead, feeling the wind in his face as he pedalled along, and he glanced back over his shoulder. “Come one, slow poke!” 

“Slow down!” Jack laughed, “let me catch up!”

“You go faster!” and Gareth put on a burst of speed before looking backwards again. “Only two more miles!”

“Two more… you’ve got to be kidding me!” 

“You’re getting old, Harkness!”

“I’ll show you old!” Jack yelled but Gareth had disappeared around a bend and was out of sight. 

The next time Jack saw Gareth only a few seconds had passed, but as Jack rounded the bend he saw Gareth turn to look behind him to see where he was, leaving just a split second when he wasn’t looking at the trail. The front wheel of his bike hit a rock protruding from the ground; it was a small rock to be sure, but it was big enough to knock the tire sideways, causing the bike to pitch forward in a reverse wheelie.

It was over in an instant. 

Gareth pitched head-first over the handlebars and crashed into the stone wall of a decorative bridge over a small stream. 

“Gareth!” Jack’s agonised scream brought several people running, some kneeling next to the young man’s body, others pulling out their mobiles and calling for help.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A truly broken heart.

“He never left Gareth’s side; for the first eight months he was there day and night, but the Gareth he knew was no longer there.” There was a lot of sadness in Matthew’s voice.

***** 

“Come on, Gareth,” Jack clutched his lover’s hand tightly and looked up at his face, so emotionless in his endless sleep. “Tell me you like Easter best of all.”

There was no response, just as there had been no response from the moment the accident had happened. 

“What?” Jack moved closer to Gareth’s head, as if proximity would make him answer. “I can’t hear you. Come on, tell me you like Easter best of all!”

Jack’s shoulders slumped when his words fell on deaf ears and he buried his face in Gareth’s chest, sobbing to himself and whispering the words over and over again. “Tell me you like Easter best of all.”

***** 

Matthew led Ianto to a bench in the park and they sat under a huge oak tree. “After a while, Gareth came out of his coma and then he slowly started to walk again, but the damage was done. The doctors said that the traumatic brain injury he’d suffered caused retrograde amnesia.”

Ianto frowned. “Wasn’t he wearing a helmet?”

“Oh yeah, definitely; if it weren’t for that helmet he’d have died, but the brain is a funny thing. One man can have a nail driven all the way into his head from a pneumatic nail gun and be absolutely fine, someone else gets just a simple bump on the head from an errant ball tossed by his kid and he’s a vegetable until the day he dies. There is no rhyme or reason. At least Gareth survived.”

There was nothing Ianto could say to that.

“Gareth remembered nothing about his life before the accident. As a photographer, Jack had thousands of photographs of them from childhood until literally that morning; he’d taken several pictures of him and them together just before they’d set out on their bike ride. 

“I was his nurse there at the rehab centre and we worked hard to get some of his memory back; we’d go through dozens and dozens of photos every day but seeing actual proof of those past memories only seemed to agitate him. He’d look through the pictures of him and Jack and then look at Jack like he’d done something wrong, like he was playing some mean trick. Jack was a complete stranger to him, and after a while, Gareth told Jack he didn’t need to visit any more, and he dropped the box of photos he’d been looking through to the floor, sending the contents scattering across the floor.”

“That must have been devastating for Jack.” Ianto again felt the need to wrap Jack in a tight hug, to comfort him even though he was nearly five hundred miles working away in France.

***** 

Jack forced himself to stay away for a few weeks, but on the day Gareth was released, he showed up with a big bunch of colourful balloons; they always gave each other balloons to celebrate non-holiday events, especially the little things that filled their lives with such joy, or just to say hi and I love you. As he rushed to the front door of the rehab centre, a breeze stirred up and his balloons bounced all around, nearly hitting a woman leaving the facility.

“Sorry!” he exclaimed as he reeled in the lengths of ribbon attached to the balloons.

She laughed, “Don’t worry about it!”

Once inside and away from the breeze, Jack released the ribbons again, so the balloons floated over his head. He lucked out and got a lift car all to himself so he didn’t have to worry about who his balloons might bounce into next. When the doors pinged open on Gareth’s floor, Jack hurried towards his boyfriend’s room, eager to welcome him back to the world. 

Gareth was dressed in a sweater of soft blue, with dark blue trousers and brown shoes; a carry-all holding the possessions he’d acquired during his long stay lay next to him the bed. Matthew sat beside him, going over a release check-out form, making notes and relaying information to Gareth about on-going aftercare.

“So, what’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get out of here?” he asked.

Gareth grinned from ear to ear. “Go to the cinema!” 

“Really? The cinema?”

“Yes,” Gareth confirmed. “You promised me when I took my first steps that you’d take me to see a film when I got out.”

“Aww… that I did,” Matthew grinned back.

“Well, I’m going to hold you to that.” Gareth sat back on the bed, confident that it was done deal.

“That’s really the first thing you want to do?”

The door to Gareth’s room was partially open when Jack – his heart full of hope – arrived just in time to hear Gareth say,

“A scary film, yes.”

Matthew chuckled. “I don’t know if I can handle that.”

Jack peered in through the narrow opening.

“Don’t worry,” Gareth said, “I’ll hold your hand,” and Jack saw him reach out and take Matthew’s hand in his.

That and the look on Ianto’s face were like a knife through Jack’s heart and he drew in a sharp breath.

That sound was small, but it caught Matthew’s attention and he looked up to see Jack standing there, his eyes filled with pain, and a devastated look on his face. Matthew’s smile fell but Gareth didn’t notice.

“Come on, Matthew, I promise we’ll have fun.” 

Jack didn’t wait around to hear what Matthew’s response was. Walking without paying any attention to where he was going, Jack found himself outside again; his heart felt like it was in a vice, small, insignificant, broken. He looked around, not really seeing his surroundings and then the breeze came up again, sending his balloons bouncing around and he looked at them, studying them, only to find that the joy they’d always held for him was gone. He fingered their ribbons for a few moments, and then he opened his hand and let them go, watching as the breeze carried them up into the sky and within seconds they were lost in the glare of the sun.

***** 

“On that day, he let Gareth go.” Matthew sighed. “He loved him that much, he just… let him go.”

Ianto and Matthew were nearing the end of their walk through the park, approaching the entrance that was nearest to Matthew’s home.

“On that day his heart shattered into a million pieces. He was fragile for a long time after, but I like to think that Jack is the man he is today because of that broken heart. He never sits still, he’s always looking around the corner for that next big adventure.”

“Running from the pain?” Ianto asked.

Matthew shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Has there been anyone else for Jack since Gareth?”

“No,” Matthew shook his head. “For a long time, I just don’t think he was ready. But lately I’ve noticed something’s changing him.”

“Yeah?”

“Call me an old-fashioned optimist, but I like think a broken heart can be healed,” Matthew spoke earnestly. “And that a healed heart can love deeper and more fully than ever before.”

Ianto walked along, silently considering those words, wondering if they could be true and then he realised that Matthew had stopped walking.

“I want to show you something,” he pulled his mobile from his pocket, opened the photo gallery and scrolled through its contents. “Here are some photos Jack took recently in Paris.”

Ianto saw pictures of couples, holding hands, kissing, sharing a coffee, and then came the pictures of hearts, one formed in broken pavement and filled with water, a heart-shaped cloud in a clear blue sky, even a heart someone had carved in a tree trunk.

“Maybe it’s just me, but this looks like somebody who’s ready to love again,” Matthew declared with a hint of excitement in his voice. He tucked his phone back into his pocket as they left the park and crossed the street. “Come on, I want you to meet Gareth and our son.” 

As they walked up to lovely bungalow with a large front garden, a little boy of seven or eight dropped the rugby ball he’d been kicking around and ran towards them. “Tad!” he called out as he jumped into Matthew’s waiting arms. 

Ianto grinned at the boy but his attention was caught by a dark-haired man stepping off the porch and walking towards them and his smile faded. 

Matthew put his son down and walked across the lawn, meeting the man halfway. “How’s the Rugby going?” he asked as he hugged the man and kissed him.

“Great!” Gareth enthused. “He’s doing really well.”

“Let’s see what you’ve been learning.” Matthew pushed the ball over to his son and as they began to play, Gareth looked up at Ianto to find him looking back. 

Something indiscernible but tangible passed between the two men at that moment, something akin to the passing of a torch, releasing Jack from one heart to another, from someone who no longer remembered him to someone who couldn’t wait to meet him. 

***** 

While Matthew and his son kicked the ball back and forth between them, Gareth and Ianto were inside, and as Gareth sat down, he apologised. “I guess I haven’t been much help with your story.”

 

Ianto shrugged, “We have a saying with writers that what you leave out is just as important as what you leave in.”  
“But in my case I didn’t choose what to leave out,” Gareth said, “it was just taken from me.” A look of pain flashed through his blue eyes. He got up and came over to sit next to Ianto on the sofa. “People tell me that Jack and I were close once, and I suppose it’s true.”

Ianto said nothing, knowing Gareth had something very important to say.

“Sometimes late at night,” the man studied his hands as if they held the secrets to the universe and he suddenly looked up at Ianto, his eyes blazing. “Or sometimes early in the morning, I get this…” he closed his eyes as though trying to picture what he was saying. “I get this sense… this sense of something…” His eyes opened again and he leaned forward a little, as though he really wanted Ianto hear what he was going to say. 

“I get this one brief memory of a Valentine’s Day with Jack,” and there was such a tender look on Gareth’s face that Ianto drew in a tiny breath and held it, waiting to hear what came next. 

“I woke up really early that morning, Jack had made me pancakes and coffee, and there on the mantel in front of the table was a homemade valentine with lots and lots of red glitter all over it. And written on it were the words, ‘I will always love you, forever and ever’. And I remember I really liked it because it just felt so special, so important.” He looked up to see tears in Ianto’s eyes.

“But then I don’t remember anything else.” There was so much sadness in Gareth’s voice that Ianto couldn’t find the words to comfort him in any way.

“I just don’t remember.”

***** 

It was Monday afternoon and Ianto was seated at his desk in the offices of his part-time job at the South Wales Echo, a daily tabloid newspaper founded in 1884 and still being published in Cardiff. He’d spent most of the weekend working on his story about finding out who Jack Harkness was and he’d given it to his friend and Echo Editor-in-Chief to read, wanting the man’s opinion.

Finally, Huw came out of his office, shaking his head. 

“It’s just a sample of how it’s going,” Ianto said nervously. “Obviously, I have a long way to go but I think it captures the essence of…”

Huw held up is hand for him to stop talking… 

Which he did for a moment and then, “…the meaning of love.” He couldn’t stop himself from finishing his sentence.

Setting the papers down on Ianto’s desk, Huw tapped it as he declared, “I feel your heart isn’t in this one.” 

Quite taken aback by his mentor’s words, Ianto protested, “That’s not true!” 

“Ianto,” Huw gave him ‘that look’, “remember when Natalie in accounting cried over your story about the beauty contestant with the broken leg? Everybody liked that one.”

“Her talent was tap-dancing; it wrote itself!”

Huw sighed and leaned over Ianto’s desk. “What we need to find here is a little heart. Ask yourself this: what is it about love that unlocks the mysteries of the human heart?” The old man straightened back up and motioned for Ianto to follow him into his office. 

“Let me tell you a story,” he tossed over his shoulder, “a story about love.” He sat down behind his desk. “Please, take a seat.” 

Ianto did as asked, finding himself sitting right in front of a plate of red-and-white frosted cookies and he watched as Huw picked one up, bit into it and made a terrible grimace before returning the offending cookie to the plate.

“Once, long ago, when I was about your age, I had two girlfriends.” Huw smiled as Ianto’s eyes widened with disbelief. “Yes, it’s true! One you know, my lovely wife Anna,” he looked at the framed photograph of him and Anna on their wedding day, standing on the steps of the church in all their wedding finery, surrounded by their wedding party. “But there was this terrific girl named Gwyneth, and on one Valentine’s Day, Gwyneth came over and gave me a gift. It was a very expensive cashmere sweater and she wanted me to wear it to her parent’s house that night.”

Ianto’s eyes twinkled as he listened to Huw’s story. He’d seen the photo many times and knew just what a dapper young man Huw had been back in the day; it was easy to see how he could juggle two girlfriends.

Huw was shaking his head. “I knew I could never wear that sweater,” and he turned his eyes back to the framed picture. 

“Why? You didn’t like it?” Ianto teased.

“No! It was a lovely sweater! But, it wasn’t really for me, you see; it was for Gwyneth, to make her feel better about herself.”

Ianto nodded in understanding. 

“And later that same day,” Huw reached out and gently touched the photo that had graced every desk he’d ever worked at. “My beautiful Anna came over with a plate of homemade cookies just like these,” and he brushed his fingers across the rim of the plate in front of him. “And it was at that moment that I really understood the true meaning of love. Here was a girl who put so much care and love into what she did for me, that I could finally understand this simple truth. 

“At the end of the day, what gives our lives meaning, is how we are loved.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Ianto realised the depth and truth of Huw’s words, feeling them write themselves across his heart.

“You need to tell your story, Ianto, tell a story about how someone or something changed your life, how it made you reject that cashmere sweater.”

Ianto smiled at him, his story already forming in his head and as he started to stand up, Huw pushed the plate of cookies towards him.

“Here,” he offered, “help yourself.”

“Thank you,” and Ianto did indeed help himself to a red-and-white heart, taking a big bite out of the delicious looking cookie. Then the flavour of the homemade treat hit his taste buds and his eyes widened again, but this time with horror as he couldn’t decide whether to politely swallow the cookie half-chewed or save himself a belly-ache and spit it into the bin. “Oh wow!” he managed to choke out and he looked up to see Huw laughing merrily.

“Amazing!” With a mighty swallow, Ianto blurted out, “You married her after eating these cookies?!”

“Oh, I know she can’t cook a lick, but boy, she loves me like no other.” He turned eyes on Ianto that were just as full of love after nearly fifty years of marriage as they were the day he’d proposed to her. 

***** 

It was early in the evening as Ianto strode up to the front door of his building and slid his keycard through the slot, releasing the lock on the entry door. He had a thoughtful smile on his face as he headed for the lift and pushed the button. Huw’s story had been on his mind for several days now and he was wondering if he would ever find that kind of love, maybe with Jack or with someone else he didn’t know, but the idea of spending the rest of his life with the guy who made awful cookies or who left his socks on the bedroom floor intrigued him. The doors opened and he stepped inside pressing the button for his floor, and just as the doors were shut a hand thrust its way between them, halting the doors and reopening them. 

“Hey, Ianto,” Daffyd said as he pulled a skinny man with bleach-blonde hair and sharp cheekbones into the car behind him, and then he reached in front of Ianto to press the button for his own floor. “Umm… excu…”

“Yup.” Ianto didn’t really look at either of the other two men as they giggled and held onto each other; instead he reached out and surreptitiously pushed the rest of the buttons, and when the doors opened for the first stop he stepped out briskly.

“Oh, hey, Ianto!” Daffyd pulled himself away from his date and called out, “This isn’t your floor!”

Ianto ignored him as he walked off down the hall, head held high, knowing that even though he was now going to have to take the stairs to his top-floor flat in the eight-storey building, Daffyd and the barfly he’d pulled would have a very annoying trip with five more stops before they got off.

Entering his home, Ianto kicked off his shoes and set them neatly by the entryway, then put his keys, wallet and mobile in the bowl on the counter. He knelt down and welcomed Boyfriend’s sloppy kisses with open arms and then went into his bedroom, followed ever-so-faithfully by Boyfriend, his toenails clicking softly on the hardwood flooring. Ianto crossed over to the bulletin board hung over his desk and looked at it with a critical eye.

“What do you think, Boy,” he asked. “I don’t think I need any of these anymore,” and he began pulling pushpins from the board, dropping the photos, notes and trinkets that Daffyd had given him over the five years they’d been together into the bin. “It is time to move on.” Satisfied with his work, Ianto turned to the dog. “Clearly, you’re my only boyfriend.”

Boyfriend leaned his head backwards over the edge of his doggie bed and looked at his master upside down, then rolled his eyes and tucked his nose under one paw. Life was just so much easier when all you had to do was sniff some other dog’s butt.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto gets to know Jack better.

Bundled up against a cold spring morning in Paris, Jack adjusted the height of his tripod and then locked down his camera. After framing his shot, he pulled his mobile from his coat pocket on a whim and sent a text. 

Hello to the man on the train eating cake. Some photos from Paris 

Ianto heard the phone beep and dashed into the living room to retrieve it and then rushed back into his bedroom to throw himself belly down onto his bed. He couldn’t wipe the happy grin off his face as he read first the message and then scrolled through the pictures that Jack had included. 

I heard you jumped out of a plane

Refusing to acknowledge the fact that his fingers were trembling ever-so-slightly, Ianto texted back, and got the cutest dog I’ve ever seen.

Life’s an adventure. You never know where it will lead you

Ianto’s grin spread from ear to ear. I’m discovering that.

After reading Jack’s final text, until next time… Ianto rolled over onto his back and clutched the phone to his chest, enjoying the wonderful feeling of warmth and happiness that spread through him. Setting the phone on the night table, he climbed beneath the duvet and turned off the lamp.

“Goodnight, Boyfriend.”

***** 

The music began to play, and Ianto was pulled into Jack’s arms, and as the strains of the tango filled the air, he allowed himself to be swept up in the magic of the moment as they danced, twirling and swaying their way across the floor. Jack was a strong lead and through it all, the only time they broke eye contact was when Jack dipped him low to the ground. 

***** 

Ianto sat bolt upright in bed, breathing hard. He looked down at Boyfriend, who’d taken advantage of his master being asleep to climb up onto the foot of his bed. and grinned like a madman. “Butterflies!” he whispered with a smile that lit up the room. “I’ve found my butterflies!”

***** 

Holding his program, Ianto began strolling through the art gallery, glancing here and there, smiling proudly when he saw the large sign proclaiming he was about to see the new works of Jack Harkness. He paused in front of a photograph just as the curator walked up to him.

“I see you’re interested in Jack’s photography.”

“Yes, I am.”

“He’s a very talented young man,” and he indicated the picture they were standing. “That’s taken from a series in Africa.” 

Ianto could see that it was clearly a companion piece to the picture he’d seen on Jack’s mobile where he’d been knelt beside the lion. The photo he was looking at now showed that same lion – he could tell by the scar on the beast’s nose – and although it was printed in black and white, the sun setting in the background made the big cat’s mane glow. 

“He travels the globe and always comes back with the most wonderful images.” 

Ianto nodded in silent agreement.

They walked a few steps further and stopped before a photo printed in vivid colour showing a family of elephants silhouetted against the blazing colours of the sun setting on the horizon. It was a truly breath-taking image. “This was taken while he was driving through the Masai National Reserve.” 

They continued walking, looking at the photographs, the curator commenting here and there, until they came across a photo showing a heart carved into a tree trunk.

“He took this in Paris!” Ianto exclaimed. 

“You’re familiar with this photograph?”

Ianto beamed at the man. “Yes! A friend of Jack’s showed this to me recently.”

The curator nodded. “It’s one of my favourites. It’s entitled ‘Hopeful’. Would you like to see some new works from Jack?”

“Oh, yes!” Ianto could sense excitement building in his heart. “Please!”

“Come this way.” The man led Ianto around a corner, into an alcove, and stopped in front of a black and white photograph of a young man, sitting alone on a subway car, holding a plastic cake box, and looking rather sad.

Ianto felt his jaw drop. 

“This one’s called ‘Man with Cake’.”

Feeling a blush starting up his cheeks, Ianto turned to the man with a delighted grin and then turned back to stare at himself.

“Perhaps it should be called ‘Hopeful’,” the curator offered, pretending not to notice that Ianto’s eyes were glistening with tears 

***** 

Ianto Jones whooped with abandon as he released his hold around the waist of the man in front of him and threw his arms out behind him, feeling the drag of the wind pull at them. He’d never ridden on the back of motorcycle before and the sensation was exhilarating, much like when he’d gone skydiving. The sexy thrum of the powerful machine rolled through his body, bringing a feeling of arousal with it. 

They arrived at a spot where they could pull over, a lovely but barren place overlooking the Bay. After dismounting and removing their helmets the two men sat down to watch the sun as it dropped slowly toward the horizon.

“Well, to answer your question,” Franklin shrugged, “I spent thirty-five years working away in corporate London and when I retired, I discovered my passion. I was up in Glasgow on a sightseeing holiday, I’d never been to Scotland, but one of the guys I’d worked with for almost twenty years never stopped singing its praises. Born and bred in the Highlands he was, and damned proud of it. One day, I was driving along and passed by a house with a motorbike sitting out front with a big FOR SALE sign on the windscreen. My little voice suddenly yelled at me to stop and so on a whim, I did.”

He grinned at Ianto. “I’d learned as a child to never ignore that little voice in my head; the few times I did were disastrous. In fact, it was because of that voice that I had the courage at age thirteen to walk over to the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen and ask her if she’d like to sit with me at lunch. She said yes, and we were together for almost twenty-three years in all. Jack is proof of how important that voice can be.”

Ianto smiled and leaned back on his hands, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face.

“The owner of the bike let me take it for a quick spin and I was absolutely hooked. I got off to a slightly rough start, but he was right there, showing me what I was doing wrong and how to correct it. I bought the thing right on the spot, drove back to my hotel in Glasgow and he met me there the very next morning. His wife followed him, thanked me profusely, saying ‘you are saving my husband’s life, cos if he ever rode that horrid beastie again, I’d have killed him with me bare hands’. And you know what?”

“No, what?”

“I believed her. She was just a tiny thing, about five-foot-nothing, might have weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet, but there was a fire in her eyes that made her look like a giant.”

Ianto laughed, picturing this fierce wee Scotswoman, ruling her domain with an iron fist inside a velvet glove. 

“Anyway, I discovered that there was nothing in the world like getting on that wonderful machine and going off for days, exploring the back roads and hidden treasures all over the UK.” Franklin reached out and touched Ianto’s arm. “And I found out that it was a fantastic way to bond with my son. Jack loves adventure, I love adventure, so on the weekends we take our bikes out and we ride.” He made a wide, sweeping gesture, taking in everything that was before them. “We ride for hours. It’s a great way for us to catch up.”

Weighing his words before he spoke, Ianto looked at Franklin. Finally, he asked, “Do you regret the years you missed watching him grow up?”

Franklin looked out over the vista, seeing the sun just ready to touch the horizon, and he sighed deeply, the exhalation coming from his soul. “Once, when Jack was about twenty and I’d been absent for years, I called him. I was sick, I had a fever, some kind of flu, and I needed someone to come over and take care of me.”

***** 

Feeling very sorry for himself, Franklin Harkness lay on his sofa, curled under the duvet he’d been dragging around the house with him for two days. He was miserable, his body ached, his nose was completely stuffed up, except for when he sneezed and then it ran like a faucet; he knew he needed a shower but he didn’t really care, and he really, really wanted a cup of hot, sweet tea but he just didn’t have the ambition necessary to get up and go through the whole tea-brewing process. 

A sneezing fit struck just as the doorbell rang, and Franklin stuffed a handful of tissues to his nose as he forced himself to get up and stagger over to open the door, leaving the duvet on the floor behind him. 

Jack took one look at the man before him and shook his head. “Well, you don’t look so good.” In response, Franklin sneezed three times into his wad of tissues as he stepped back so his son could enter. 

It didn’t take long at all before Franklin found himself in clean T-shirt and sleep pants, with a cool cloth on his forehead, and empty wastepaper basket and a full box of tissues within easy reach. He looked up to see Jack coming in from the kitchen bearing a tray, which he set down on the coffee table in front of his dad. There was the cup of tea he’d been craving as well as a bowl of hot soup and some crackers.

***** 

Franklin looked over at Ianto, his face an open book. “That was the night it all finally made sense,” he confessed. 

***** 

Jack helped his dad sit up and then handed him the mug of tea, sweetened with honey just the way he remembered his dad drinking when he was a kid. “Here you go.” 

***** 

“That was the moment I knew that he had real faith in our future together.” Franklin’s eyes filled with tears and when he spoke again, his voice was gruff with emotion. “That simple act of kindness… it really touched me. It touched me immeasurably.” He blinked rapidly for a moment and cleared his throat. 

“And so to answer your question, no. No regrets, but lessons learned,” he nodded wisely. 

Together, Franklin and Ianto watched the sun sink into the sea, each man lost his own thoughts, a comfortable silence between them.

***** 

As they pulled up in front of Ianto’s flat, they saw Daffyd walking towards the entrance, his attention fully on his phone. Something about the subtle way Ianto stiffened just the littlest bit told Franklin that this man had hurt Ianto in some way, and so he made a show of their arrival by revving his engine several times until finally Daffyd looked up from his mobile.

Killing the engine and flipping the kickstand, Franklin took off his helmet before turning and giving Ianto a hand dismounting the back of the bike. “You are a natural!” he announced, watching Daffyd out of the corner of his eye as Ianto pulled off his helmet.

“Yeah, that was fun!” Ianto exclaimed as he took off his goggles and tucked him inside the helmet.

Intrigued Daffyd drew closer to the couple and heard the older man say, “I had a great time with you, Ianto; it was a great ride.”

Ianto’s eyes danced as he grinned from ear to ear. “Yeah, it was!”

Franklin accepted the helmet. “Next weekend?”

Daffyd stepped even closer, crossing his arms across his chest, straining to hear Ianto’s answer; neither man paid him any attention. 

“It’s a date!” 

Daffyd’s eyes flew open as he watched Ianto lean forward into the other man’s arms, hugging him tightly before kissing Franklin’s cheek. “Night.”

Confused and concerned, Daffyd tried glaring at Franklin but the man continued to ignore him, and so he turned to Ianto as he walked past him. 

“Really? A motorcycle?” Daffyd asked scathingly but his former boyfriend just winked at him as he headed for the door. Turning back to the other man, Daffyd watched him slide the goggles down over his eyes and then give Daffyd a jaunty salute, which Daffyd returned somewhat weakly. As the motorcycle roared away, he was left standing on the sidewalk alone and feeling foolish, his mind reeling from the idea of Ianto and an older man. ‘The guy’s at least twice Ianto’s age!’ he thought indignantly. ‘I mean, a motorcycle!’

Upstairs, Ianto set a mug of coffee down on the table next to him and pulled out all the notes he’d made for Jack’s story. He was just cuing up Franklin’s interview on the digital recorder when the buzzer sounded for his door. Not expecting any visitors and knowing that Rhys was out of town on a stag-do with his mates, Ianto frowned as he went to the door, opening it to find Daffyd of all people standing there with a long-stemmed red rose in his hands and an apologetic look on his face.

Against his better judgement – ‘I have got to start paying better attention to my little voice’ – Ianto accepted not only the rose but Daffyd’s invitation to dinner the following evening. Without Rhys there to cook dinner, he’d been planning on making sandwiches or ordering pizza – he couldn’t decide which – to get him through the weekend, but then decided that a nice dinner of sushi was too good to resist. 

Saturday night came quickly and dressed in a nice jumper and trousers, Ianto pocketed his keys, wallet and mobile as he went out the door. It was a short walk to the Japanese restaurant he frequented, and he was lucky enough to get two seats at the counter. It was his favourite place to sit in a sushi house; he loved watching how swiftly and easily the chefs manipulated the sticky rice and the carefully cut fish. 

He waited patiently, smiling at the hostess who paused for a moment to chat, thanking the waitress for the ice water, chatting with the chef about which fish he had picked up at the market just that morning, all the while checking his watch and wondering if Daffyd had changed his mind.

Finally, nearly fifteen minutes late, Daffyd walked through the door and the hostess quickly sat him, making it clear without saying a word exactly what she thought of a man who kept someone as lovely as Ianto waiting. 

The moment Ianto saw his old boyfriend he cocked his head as though studying something unseen and then he brushed his hand over his stomach. ‘Nope, no butterflies, not a single one.’

Perching awkwardly on the high-backed stool next to Ianto, Daffyd looked around, taking in the sparse but elegant décor. He was obviously a little uncomfortable, given the way he squirmed and cleared his throat several times. He’d never been in a Japanese restaurant before, let alone sat at the counter in front of the glass case full of fish. It was a bit unnerving. ‘What kind of barbarian decided that fish should be eaten raw?’ and he gave a tiny shudder from the sheer horror of it all.

“Don’t you just love this place?” Ianto smiled at the chef, letting him know that they were ready to be served. 

“Erm…” Daffyd’s discomfort level grew as the chef slid a plate across the top of the glass case, which Ianto accepted with a brief bow of thanks.

Daffyd looked at it with suspicion. “What’s this?”

“Uni or sea urchin and it is so tender,” Ianto picked up his chopsticks and lifted one piece, intending to feed it to Daffyd.

“We didn’t order this, why did he give us this?” Daffyd leaned backwards, away from the sushi that Ianto was trying to put in his mouth. “Uhh… no…” and he shook his head.

“Well, actually I did, before you got here. I asked for an omakase meal, which means ‘I'll leave it up to you’ so the chef will decide for us what he thinks is the best he has and what he thinks we’ll like,” Ianto explained. “Traditionally, the chef will present us with a series of plates, beginning with the lightest fare and proceeding to the heaviest dishes.” Ianto put the rejected sushi in his mouth and chewed, allowing the luscious flavour of the uni to wash over his tongue.

He continued. “Customers ordering omakase-style expect the chef to be innovative and surprising in the selection of dishes, and many times, the meal can be likened to an artistic performance by the chef.” He ate the second piece of uni and then cleansed his palate with a bit of the pickled ginger.

Daffyd couldn’t get the disapproving frown off his face as he watched Ianto eat, and he surreptitiously held his mobile under the counter and Googled sea urchin. When he discovered that uni was actually the sea urchin’s gonads he actually felt nauseous and grabbed for his glass of water, using it to wash the bile back down.

“What happened to your love of butternut ravioli?” he asked, kind of surprised by the slightly bitter tone of his voice. 

Ianto took the time to accept the next plate from the chef and then use his chopsticks to grasp a piece of ebi. “Here, you’ll probably like this one, it’s cooked sweet shrimp.”

With a shake of his head and a downward turn of his lips, Daffyd silently refused Ianto’s offering. 

Ianto shrugged and popped the delicious morsel into his mouth, holding on to the shrimp’s tail shell at the last moment. He could see that Daffyd was waiting for an answer to his question, so he swallowed.

“Well, like you,” he said, picking up the second shrimp and dipping it ever-so-gently in the soy sauce. “I had my own ‘road to Damascus’ moment.” 

Daffyd’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, but he said nothing, settling for a rather condescending smile that said, ‘of course you did, but really, you’re just copying what I said that night’.

The chef set a new plate on top of the glass case and slid it toward Ianto. This time he’d prepared unagi, grilled freshwater eel with a bit of light, secret-recipe teriyaki glaze spread across the top. Ianto didn’t even bother offering any of it to Daffyd.

Feeling a bit desperate to fill the silence, Daffyd searched his mind for something to say. “Say, did I tell you… remember Nigel Patrick? The family car guy who bought the red convertible?” He waited for Ianto to nod and then went on. “Well, he came in a couple of days ago and returned the sports car. He said, ‘I don’t know what I was thinking; I really am just a blue sedan kind of guy’.” Daffyd shook his head as if he’d known it all along.

Ianto caught the chef’s eye and bowed, acknowledging the wonderful choices he’d made so far. In return, the elderly sushi maker presented him with a fresh plate, this one containing a true delicacy. “Daffyd, look!” Ianto was excited and he smiled his gratitude to the chef, giving as low a bow as he could given that he was sitting down.

Daffyd rolled his eyes. As far as he was concerned, raw fish was only good for bait and even then, he wasn’t going to touch it. The fact that Ianto was enjoying it so much was quite disturbing.

“He’s gifted us with o-toro!” Ianto’s taste buds with dancing with anticipation. “That’s the fattiest, most succulent part of the tuna’s belly. Daffyd, this is a true honour! You have to try this. It’s almost like eating butter it’s so tender.” 

Daffyd smiled painfully and shook his head. “You enjoy it.”

“Your loss,” Ianto set down his chopsticks and used his fingers to pick up the sushi, turning it over and just barely brushing part of the fish’s surface across the soy sauce before placing it fish-side-down in his mouth. As the fatty o-toro began to melt on his tongue, Ianto closed his eyes and savoured the bliss. 

Slightly unnerved by the erotic way Ianto was eating his raw fish, it took Daffyd a moment to remember what he’d been talking about. “Erm… Anyway, you can’t imagine the amount of paper… work…” he phased out watching Ianto eat the second piece of tuna. Giving himself a physical shake back to reality, he snorted and said, “Let me tell you, we’re talking loads and loads of forms…”

Ianto wasn’t listening; he could hear the sound of Daffyd’s voice, but not the words themselves. His attention had been caught by a couple sitting at one of teppanyaki tables and in his mind’s eye, it was him and Jack sitting there, holding hands, bodies touching, cooking on the hot grill and feeding each other morsels of food. 

“…first time I’ve ever had to process a return…”

The fantasy faded and Ianto gradually became aware that Daffyd was still talking. “Although there was this one time I did have… Now what was his name?” Daffyd looked off into the distance and then snapped his fingers. “Garfield, I’m pretty sure that was his name, so…”

“Daffyd,” Ianto interrupted what was sure to be another long boring story; he’d spent five years listening to them and he knew the warning signs when one was about to begin.

“Yeah?” The man plastered his brightest smile on his face, the one normally reserved for the high-end car buyer in his showroom.

“I used to have dreams about us,” Ianto told him as he rested his chopsticks on the little ceramic stand shaped like a carp. “I had so many ideas of what our future would be like, where we’d live, what our house would look like, sometimes we’d adopt children, sometimes not. I’d think about where we’d holiday and what we’d do when we retired, and what it would be like when we were old.” He shrugged expressively. “But knowing what I know now, and knowing who I am now, I just…”

Daffyd’s eyes narrowed; he didn’t like where things were going. Ianto was supposed to see that they should be together after all, that they’d made a mistake in breaking up and that it was for Ianto’s own good that he come back to the man who had invested five years in a relationship with him. He planned to forget about the month or so they were separated; couples took time-outs all the time, and then they got back together again as though nothing had ever happened.

Ianto shook his head, “I just don’t know… I just cannot figure out what that future would be like now.”

“Wha… I mean, is it…” Daffyd stumbled through his words, disbelief evident. “Is it over between us?”

“Yes.” Ianto’s answer was short, sweet and definitely straight to the point.

Misery caked Daffyd’s face and he appeared to physically shrink in upon himself. “I suppose you’re gonna want me to move out, to leave the building, to…”

“No!” Ianto quickly interrupted as he reached out and patted Daffyd’s hand. “It’s okay for you to stay right where you are.” He could tell by the blank look in the other man’s eyes that the true significance of those last few words had gone right over his head.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally Valentine's Day.

It was late and Ianto was back at his office desk, his fingers flying across his keyboard and then with a final flourish, he announced to no one, “The end!” and he sat back with his hands behind his head and looked at the computer screen with pride.

After saving his story to both his computer and to an external thumb drive and sending a copy to Huw for final approval before it was printed, he headed home; he was hungry and Rhys was making baked chicken with proper roasty potatoes. It was definitely a meal not to miss.

The house was absolutely redolent with the smells of good food, and while they waited for everything to finish, Ianto and Rhys sat back on the sofa and enjoyed a glass of wine as they shared their days. In the corner, almost dominating the room, floated an enormous bouquet of red balloons, some with stars, some with dots, some plain. 

“I love those balloons,” Ianto raised his glass and saluted the bouquet.

“Can you believe tomorrow is Valentine’s Day?” Rhys leaned back in his seat and grinned. “Tomorrow you finally meet Jack. Are you nervous?”

Ianto considered for a moment, then answered truthfully. “A little,” he admitted.

Rhys waved away his answer. “Don’t be, he’s gonna love you! And he’s gonna love he article you wrote about him.”

Ianto nodded as he sipped his wine. “finding that phone on the train has changed my life. I realised I was only with Daffyd because I was comfortable, and everyone just expected us to be together and to get engaged and then someday to get married and build a life and even a family together, and I figured that since it was expected, then it was right.” The words were coming out in a rush by the end.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like Daffyd, but it wasn’t love. I see that now, I see the difference.” He smiled at Rhys. “Love isn’t always comfortable; sometimes it sneaks up on you, sometimes when you’re not even looking.” His smile grew into a wide grin. “It’s unexpected, like my tad once told me.”

“Speaking of unexpected, I think Boyfriend has fallen hard for a poodle we see in the dog park.”

“Well, it is the season of love!” Ianto laughed.

“I’m not really sure what beagle and poodle puppies would look like, so it’s a good thing Boyfriend is fixed,” Rhys declared with a salute of his glass.

Ianto became serious again. “Seeing how Jack lives his life makes me want to live mine differently. I don’t want to be comfortable; I want something…” he paused, looking for just the right word.

“Unexpected?” Rhys offered softly.

“Yeah,” Ianto nodded with satisfaction. “Unexpected.”

“Do you mind?” Rhys picked up the printout of Ianto’s story; it was entitled ‘How I Found the Meaning of Love’. 

“No, go right ahead.”

Rhys skimmed the article and then came to a part that jumped off the page at him and he began reading out loud. “And love is opening our hearts to any possibility, no matter how unexpected.” He looked up at Ianto. “Oh man, now I wish I’d have found a phone on a train.”

Ianto smiled back. It was the first time he’d heard his words read aloud and he decided he rather liked the way they sounded.

“I’m proud of you, Ianto.”

Ianto was a bit taken aback. “You’re proud of me?”

“Yeah, someone told you to go for it so you jumped in with both feet and did just that. So, was it the phone?”

“I think it was the butterflies,” Ianto admitted as he blushed a bright pink.

Just then the oven timer buzzed, saving the Welshman from any further embarrassment.

***** 

It was Valentine’s Day and Ianto spun around in front of the mirror, trying to decide if he looked all right, if a cashmere sweater and trousers struck the right note for meeting what could be the man of his dreams. “What do you think?”

“Ya look like me da when he has to dress up but doesn’t want to.” Rhys sprawled across Ianto’s bed, sharing a bag of smoky bacon crisps with Boyfriend. “And it’s eight twenty-five.”

Ianto rolled his eyes and ducked back into his closet, emerging a few minutes later in artfully ripped jeans, and over-sized button down with a t-shirt underneath.

“No!” Rhys barked out. “No one wears ripped jeans on the first date.”

“Technically, it’s not a first date.”

“Don’t care! It’s now eight thirty-three, you’re gonna be late.”

Already stripping out of his clothes, Ianto dove back into the closet and emerged wearing charcoal pin-striped suit trousers and waistcoat with a pale lavender shirt. 

“That’s the ticket!” Rhys jumped up and grabbed Ianto, swinging him around, leaving Boyfriend free to happily scarf down the unattended bag of crisps. “Now get out of here, its eight forty-four!”

Ianto grabbed his jacket and ran out of the building and straight to the waiting taxi. After giving the driver the address, he asked, “I’m running late; could you please hurry?”

Sitting there, watching the night-time streets of Cardiff flashing past the windows, Ianto wondered what it was going to be like finally meeting Jack. Suddenly he realised that the taxi had come to a halt and he looked out to find they weren’t at the pub but were caught in a traffic jam caused by a jack-knifed lorry up ahead. 

Glancing at his watch he saw that it was already nine o’clock, the time he and Jack had agreed to meet. Desperate inspiration struck and Ianto handed the driver some money and got out of the taxi. “I’ll run from here,” he told the surprised man. “It’s got to be quicker.”

Dashing down the street, barely avoiding colliding with people not in the same hurry he was, Ianto arrived at the pub and slammed through the front door, pausing only long enough to straighten his clothing and catch his breath. Then he walked into the main room and looked around, quickly spying the South Wales Echo lying on an unoccupied table just to his right, the paper folded open to show his headline and article.

“Oh, no! I’ve missed him!” Ianto looked all around the pub, trying to find Jack but to no avail. Finally, he dashed up to the bar. “Where is the guy who was sitting there?” he asked the bartender, pointing to that table.

The man shrugged and polished a glass. “I dunno, we get a lot of people in here,” and it was clear he had no interest at all in helping Ianto.

“Think!” Ianto leaned on the bar, “what happened to him, where did he go?”

Again, the man shrugged. “There was some guy there, but I don’t know where he went.”

With a sinking feeling in his heart, Ianto asked, “What did he look like?”

“I dunno, he was wearing pants.”

Ianto couldn’t decide if the man was really that stupid or if he thought being snarky was a good idea. “Pants?! What did he look like? Was he handsome? Did he have pretty blue eyes?”

“Mister, I don’t remember.” The bartender was clearly getting annoyed with the twenty questions routine.

Ianto pulled out a stool and sat down. “Listen, that guy’s the reason I found myself,” he tried to explain. “Before I met him I lived a life of caution, always second-guessing everything.”

The bartender didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was rolling his eyes. It had already been a long shift and he was tired of listening to everyone else’s problems and he just wanted to go home.

“My idea of a wild time was sneaking a wine cooler into the four-pm showing of ‘Eat, Pray’ Love’.”

“I love Julia Roberts,” the man confessed.

“Everybody loves Julia Roberts,” Ianto snorted. “My point is, because of that amazing, handsome, loving, intelligent, generous, kind man, I danced the tango and I jumped out of an airplane and I got a dog and…” he ran out of steam and slumped in his seat. Then he looked at the bartender though narrowed eyes. “You just let him walk out of that door and out of my life!”

The bartender arched an eyebrow as if to say, ‘Really? You’re blaming me?’

Ianto buried his head in his hands. “This is all my fault! You know what my problem is?”  
The bartender couldn’t resist. “You like to talk to strangers?”

“Don’t you get it? After all that searching for the story of Jack Harkness, the story I actually found was my own. I found my strength, I found my happiness and I found the man for me.”

“Mister, are you gonna order something?” The bartender was now more than bored with Ianto’s over-the-top revelations. 

“Oh, I know what you’re going to say! You’re going to say that Jack Harkness doesn’t even know I exist. What’s wrong with Daffyd? Daffyd wants you back. I should have just gone back to Daffyd. Daffyd is the place to go.”

“I don’t know any Daffyd,” the man snarked, “so…”

Ianto became choked up and a stray tear coursed its way down his cheek, scaring the bartender.

“Hey mister, please don’t cry!” There was real alarm in the bartender’s voice.

“The truth is I’ve fallen in love,” Ianto whimpered. “I found out that sometimes you fall in love with the most unexpected person at the most unexpected time and you do the most unexpected things.” He looked up at the young man nervously dragging a towel through his hands. “You know what I mean?”

“I already have a girlfriend and her name is Marisol and she’s really jealous.” The bartender backed away from Ianto, colliding with the shelves full of liquor bottles behind him.

Ianto didn’t hear what he said. “You know, at the end of the day I’ve come all this way and I’ve finally found myself and I’m left at the scariest part of my journey. Am I bold enough? Am I brave enough?” He brought his fists crashing down on the bar. “Am I crazy enough to fall in love?” 

“I think we’re both crazy enough,” a quiet voice said from behind him.

Drawing in a gasp of breath, Ianto whirled around and a brilliant smile lit up his face. Standing up he reached for Jack only to have Jack move back a few steps and hold out his hand. Ianto quickly took hold and Jack pulled him in close, hugging him tightly.

***** 

As the late-night train clattered along the tracks, Jack and Ianto snuggled together in an empty car.

“Valentine’s Day is almost over,” Ianto remarked softly.

“No, we still have…” Jack consulted his watch, “ten more minutes.”

“I have a present for you.”

Jack was surprised. “For me?”

Ianto reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out Jack’s missing phone. “Ta-da!”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have! It’s just what I’ve always wanted,” Jack joked as he accepted his mobile. 

Taking the phone back, Ianto opened it and pulled up the photo gallery then handed it back, watching Jack’s face as he scrolled through all the new pictures Ianto had added as he’d talked to Jack’s friends. Seeing all the people whom Ianto had touched and who had touched Ianto brought a lump to his throat.

“I have something for you too,” Jack said, reaching into his own pocket. “Close your eyes,” he instructed, waiting for Ianto to do as he asked even as he giggled with excitement. 

Holding his breath, Jack took hold of Ianto’s hand and carefully placed a faded red square of craft paper in his palm. “Okay, open.”

The moment Ianto saw the red and white hearts and all the glitter, his breath caught in his throat and when he read the worlds ‘I will always love you forever and ever’ tears spilled from his eyes to run down his cheeks. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Jack said softly, using his thumb to wipe away Ianto’s tears.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jack.” Ianto leaned forward and captured his lips in a searing first kiss, bonding with the love of his life.

When they broke for air Ianto said, “you asked me a while ago what was in my dreams, and,” he looked down at the card and then back up into Jack’s blue eyes, “I think it was this.”

Unable to speak for the emotions flooding through his heart and mind, Jack cupped Ianto’s face with both hands and kissed him again…

And again…

And again…

Forever and ever.

End


End file.
